Insatiable Love

by Latoya Chandler

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Latavia Carter can't face the present because she's stuck in her past. Lies, secrets, and infidelity have caused her life to spiral out of control. But is it her fault? How can it be, when just about everyone in her immediate circle has a secret of his or her own? Who can she trust? Better yet, how can she trust anyone when she can't even trust herself?
Darnell Carter makes the decision to keep a one-night stand a secret. It sends the world he's worked so hard to build crumbling down, placing him in a life-or-death situation. Divorce isn't an option in his eyes, so he is forced to take matters into his own hands. "Until death do us part" isn't something he takes lightly.
After backpedaling into her past, Latavia finds her life changed drastically. Carrying the consequences of her infidelity, Latavia hopes to salvage the broken pieces of her marriage. Will Darnell accept her efforts, or will the ghost of Latavia's past take control and reign forever?
Come take a journey into this romantic thriller of sex, lies, and betrayal, and see if Insatiable Love won't have you second-guessing your own sense of trust--especially if your wants overshadow your needs.

Release date: February 23, 2021

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

I can’t control the stream of tears escaping my eyes as I admire myself in the mirror. This is the happiest day of my life and the best off that I have ever been. However, I feel like something is missing. Maybe it’s just wedding-day jitters, I think before swallowing back the anxiety creeping up my throat. There is no way I can have my Prince Charming waiting too long. Oh yes, I, Latavia Watkins, am about to walk down the aisle in one of the baddest gowns money can buy. Thanks to my bestie and wedding planner, Nariah. I pretty much told her what I wanted, gave her a budget to work with, and she made my dreams a reality. It’s still unbelievable that in approximately forty-five minutes, I will become Mrs. Darnell Maxwell Carter. It’s crazy because, in all actuality, it feels as if we just met.

I become lost in my thoughts and begin reminiscing about just how Darnell and my relationship began. No one would ever believe that we met only a year and a half ago, on a dating website of all places. Hell, I was there, and I still don’t believe it. What started off as a hobby, or a way for me to pass time at work, turned into something bigger. Six feet, three inches of dark chocolate–covered muscles had me intrigued. When he smiled, I was instantly infatuated and knew I had to meet this god on earth face-to-face. It wasn’t just his looks that had me going; it was his conversation too. Darnell knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. Then, on top of all that, he listened to me. He didn’t just hear me. He actually listened, and it all just seemed too good to be true.

Despite the nervous tension that I was battling, I made up my mind, stepped outside my comfort zone, and agreed to finally meet him in person. I figured, after all, that since we had been chatting and getting to know one another via text messaging, picture mail, and countless hours of phone conversations for a little over six months, it was time to meet. Once we agreed upon a face-to-face introduction, I requested that he meet me at a lingerie store in Queens Center Mall. It was a neutral location and was close by for both of us since we both lived in Queens. The mall was approximately thirty minutes away from both of us. I suggested a bra and panty store because we had never spoken about sex. I needed to make sure he wasn’t a punk when it came to maneuvering his way around all this goodness and mercy that God had so graciously blessed me with.

Who would have thought that it would turn out to be the best first date that I had ever had in my life? I ended up modeling every single item for him in my heels, per his request. So, not only did we end up shopping, but once his eyes beheld all this flawlessly crafted edible arrangement, he wanted to run his pockets in the worst way, and I kindly accepted. I am what you would call beauty and brains, and I happen to be thick on all the right places, or thickums, if you let Darnell tell it. No, I’m not the perfect Coke bottle–shaped female, but I know how to capture a man’s attention. Hence, when he pulled out his credit card for lotions, body spray, bras, and underwear, I let him have it his way.

I snap out of my moment of reminiscing when Nariah walks into my dressing room.

“You have twenty minutes to dry your eyes, get your makeup refreshed, and get your ass ready to walk down that damn aisle! I have worked entirely too hard for you to make me look bad,” she snaps before smiling.

I have to laugh at her crazy butt, because her utterance sounded like something I would say to her. That’s one of the reasons why we are as thick as thieves to this day: we are so much alike.

It takes me all of ten minutes to reapply the makeup I’ve ruined with my tears, and before I know it, it’s showtime.

“Well, this is it,” I say aloud to myself as I take one last look in the mirror at the snow-white, floor-length gown that is accented with crystals. It hugs my frame seductively yet tastefully. “There’s no turning back now.” As soon as the words part my lips, I become nervous and hesitant. I quickly ignore the nagging feeling and regain my composure. I assume it comes with the territory of wedding-day jitters.

I’m so glad I listened to my heart and not my panicking mind, especially once the double doors of the church open. The sound of the acoustic guitar playing “Here Comes the Bride” gives me my cue. Moments later, I lock eyes with my Prince Charming, who stands smiling at the end of the aisle. A lone tear escapes his eye and rolls slowly down his face before he wipes it away. As I stand in my designated spot, I know I am making the right decision. However, that doesn’t stop my nerves from going into overdrive, causing me to squeeze Nariah’s hand even tighter.

Nariah is the only person in my life that is fit to give me away and walk me down the aisle. She is a wedding planner by trade, my bestie for life, and the only family that I acknowledge. The closer we get to the end of the aisle, the more I panic and tighten my grip. Although I am squeezing the life out of her hand, Nariah turns to me and gives me a warm smile. Which assures me that, as she stated earlier, Darnell is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Despite all that I’ve been through throughout my life, it is evident right now that everything has been and is working together for my good, as evidenced by the prize that presently awaits me.

The rest of the wedding ceremony goes by in a blur, and before I know it, Pastor Foreman is pronouncing us husband and wife. Darnell pulls me into his arms, and I am finally able to slob my husband down. Oh yes, today is a good day.

Words cannot begin to express my feelings for this man. He is undoubtedly a gift from God, specially hand-crafted just for me. Darnell loves me past my hurts, pains, and insecurities—well, at least the ones he knows about. The way I see it, we all have a past buried in the back of our mind, a past that is off limits for discussion and something we would prefer to keep hidden and take to our graves. I am quite sure he has a few skeletons of his own that he purposely hasn’t mentioned. To put it another way, things are beautiful just the way they are. That’s neither here nor there, because no matter what he or I may have gone through, he makes sure to keep a smile on my beautiful face and ensures I stay happy no matter what.

He does just that and then some. For instance, since our three-week honeymoon cruise to Europe, I have been to Hawaii, France, Italy, and the Bahamas, and these trips included shopping sprees. All the places I’d seen on television, dreamed and read about, my beloved made a reality for me. However, I don’t love him just for the material things; I love him because he genuinely loves me. He taught me what love is and how to love not only him but also myself.

Let’s not forget about his sex game. Good Lord, that man has my body free on demand; whatever he wants me to do, say, or explore, his wish is my command. Every time we intertwine our flesh, it’s like the very first time we examined one another’s bodies. Speaking of the first time, it happens to have happened the night we met, during our first date. If I’m not mistaken, I was trying on some lingerie in the dressing room in keeping with his request, and seeing the bulge in his pants let me know I was doing a fantastic job. Anyway, as I tried on bras for Darnell, he wanted to purchase each item I touched or looked at, along with a few other things.

I become lost in thought as I recall what we did next.

“How do you feel about going to happy hour to have a few drinks and appetizers?” he asks as we exit the store.

“I would love that,” I reply, blushing and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Cool. We can take my car, if you don’t mind.”

“Lead the way, handsome,” I reply seductively.

Mahoney’s Bar and Grill must know that this is our first date and that I want to leave a lasting impression. Our drinks are on steroids, strong as all hell. I, no doubt, drink entirely too much and am feeling myself, which, of course, leads to me being very frisky. My hands have a mind of their own, and they want to touch, caress, and grope Darnell’s bulging manhood, and they do just that.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s not ladylike, and while my brainbox is saying, ‘Stop! No,’ my eyes and hands are saying, ‘Oh yes,’” I joke.

When I feel his manhood at full attention, my mouth begins to water. I want to see, feel, and taste all that thickness being held hostage in the jean shorts he is wearing. Darnell must have read my mind and has plans of his own. The look he gives me would have made my panties soaking wet if I had any on. He stares into my eyes with a dirty, lustful grin on his face as he grabs that mouthwatering bump in his pants. Without removing his eyes from mine, he gives me a head nod toward the door.

“I think we’re done here, little lady,” he says, helping me to my feet.

I quickly follow his lead and get my hot tail up out of my seat. Then I grab my purse and proceed to exit the building. Looking over my shoulder, I can see Darnell is right behind me, practically on top of my four-and-a-half-inch pumps. As we approach the car, Darnell grabs me by my hair and pulls me to him. The back of my head rests on his chest as he lifts my skirt, then allows his hands to travel the pathway to my love garden. When he reaches his desired destination, my hot juices begin to drip on the two fingers he uses to dance around my juice box. He is now able to feel just how turned on I am.

“Damn, baby. All this is for Daddy?” he asks inquisitively.

I can see this has turned him on to the eleventh power. Darnell slowly begins removing his fingers from my hot box, allowing my nectar to drip down from his fingers onto my inner thigh. He wastes no time in slowly and seductively devouring the secretions left behind on each of his fingers, one by one. I learned a long time ago that there ain’t no fun if Mama can’t get any, so I join him. I lick my juices off with him, stealing kisses when our lips connect. That is something I have never done, and to my surprise, I instantly become addicted. I am fascinated with the way I taste, and he enjoys it just as much as I do.

“You taste so good, baby. I can imagine how good it’s going to feel when I slide up in that.”

“I love the way your mouth feels, Darnell,” I moan.

He allows his hands to have a free-for-all and roam all over my body. Then, without notice, he lifts me off the ground and gently places me in a sitting position on the hood of the car.

“Relax while I tame that cat,” he instructs as he proceeds to spread my legs wide enough to get a good look at my honey bun. From the looks of it, he must like what he sees. He goes into beast mode before sliding me down to the edge of the car. Darnell drops to his knees, goes headfirst, and licks and sucks all over my sweetness, as if it is his first and last meal. He allows his tongue to penetrate me, as if it is his manhood. Then he switches between stabbing his tongue in and out of my canal to using the tip of his tongue to dance across my clit to a tune only he can hear. I love every minute of it. Within a matter of minutes, my legs begin to shiver, and then I experience my very first orgasm at the age of twenty-nine.

“Oh, my goodness! What are you doing to me?” I wail in pleasure.

“Treating you like a lady,” he replies, increasing the speed of his tongue lashing.

It is one thing for a man to make you cum, but an orgasm, my friend, is, and I quote, “a whole new world.” In my entire existence, I have never, and I mean never, had a man take his time to please me the way Darnell has. To top it off, it has taken place on the hood of a damn car. That alone has me open like 7-Eleven. He doesn’t give me any time to recover from that mind-blowing orgasm before he forcefully yet gently slides me off the car.

“Bend over and grab your ankles,” he instructs with the same authority an officer of the law would use when arresting someone.

I do as I am told, and he lets his masculinity find its way home, entering me with a quick thrust, then explores every inch of my walls. I match his rhythm and throw my ass back at him. I am testing him to see if he can catch all this good loving I’m pitching to make him feel as good as he is making me feel. Just when I feel him tensing up, I ease away from him and push him up against the truck.

“My turn,” I utter enticingly, sliding to my knees and locking eyes with his before demolishing all nine and a half inches of him. I gag a little. However, I am far from a punk. I take me time and relax my throat. Slowly, I take all of him into my warm mouth, like a real champion on a mission to accomplish the task at hand. I professionally lick, spit, slurp, suck, and deep-throat that thick chocolate beef stick, as if I am getting paid for my services, until his knees begin to buckle. Once he commences to shuddering, I suck even harder and allow him to explode in my mouth, releasing all his burnt-sienna babies down my throat.

“Damn, girl! What are you trying to do? Make a brother wife you up?” he inquires, slightly out of breath.

“Just giving you what you gave me, to let you know all of this is real,” I retort.

By the time we regain our composure, I happen to look over to my left, and that’s when I notice we have an audience.

“Darnell, I think someone’s watching us. Look over there.” Embarrassed, I point in the direction of the Peeping Tom.

“He has company, and from the looks of it, he’s not paying us one bit of attention.”

Getting a better look, I realize the gentleman watching us isn’t alone. He has a female companion on her knees, and she is taking him to the same place from whence Darnell and I have just returned. That turns us on even more, and before I know it, I am being picked back up and tossed into Darnell’s truck.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask.

“You will find out soon enough,” he shoots back, fastening his seat belt.

Thirty minutes later, we pull up to a two-story hi-ranch home. Being that it is now pitch dark out, I am unable to get a good look at the house or the neighborhood. I don’t have my glasses on or my contacts in, so I really can’t see a thing. That’s what I get for trying to be cute and grown up. I assume this is his home, because he uses the remote atop his visor to open the garage door before pulling in. After he exits the vehicle, Darnell makes sure to grab all the bags before he proceeds to walk to the other side and open the car door for me. Darnell can’t get the door to the house open fast enough between fumbling with the keys and trying to feel me up at the same time.

“You need a little help there, buddy?” I say, clowning.

“I got this. You’re the one who’s going to need help,” he threatens as the door swings open.

As soon as his hands are free, he makes sure they find their rightful place back under my skirt, in search of my well-manicured garden of love.

“Can you please give me a tour before you make another mess?” I taunt, admiring his stylishly decorated home.

“The grand tour will come much later, little lady. Right now, I need another show. I want to see just how hard you can get me before this bulldozer tears your walls back down.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“In between modeling everything in these bags—from the lotions to the sprays—I want them juicy lips on this dick, and make sure you leave them heels on. Don’t hold back, either, because I’m going to tear that wet ass up.”

His words only make my camel toe do a backflip.

Well, the day is finally here for me to meet ole girl. I can’t believe I’ve been dealing with her for six months straight and have yet to physically lay these hazel eyes or these ass-palming hands on her. Yeah, I’m slipping, I think. I hope and pray her ass looks like it does in them damn pictures. I would have no problem leaving her right up in that store, and that’s my word. I’m shocked she wants to meet up at Victoria’s Secret; she’s probably a real live freak, with her nasty ass. I have to laugh at that one. Honestly, her wanting to meet me there, of all places, has me rock hard just from the thought of it alone.

This is too good to be true.

“Lord, I need a favor. Please let Latavia be all she displayed in those damn pictures—well, not the first one she sent. You know the picture she sent the first time I requested one? The one of Lil Jon? She got me good with that and grabbed a brother’s attention at the same time. That was different, with her crazy ass.”

Yo, why am I smiling? This shit is bugged out. My bad!

“God, please forgive me for cursing. She’s got a brother a little nervous. Amen!”

I know you’re probably wondering why a distinguished gentleman like myself would have to resort to online dating when I have to wear a full-body condom to stay protected from all the trim shoved in my face on the regular. I’m not saying I’m one of those GQ dudes, but I clean up nicely if you ask me. I stand before you—a six-three, dark-skinned man with the complexion of dark chocolate milk, an average muscular build, and brown eyes. I keep my head shaved bald, my face always freshly shaven, and my goatee on point. You can call me King Ding-a-ling, and I’ll leave it at that. Yes, I’m blessed: my dick game is unmeasured, and I’m a blessing to the ladies. If Latavia plays her cards right tonight, she will receive some of the blessings.

Unfortunately for my ex-fiancée, Nicole, I’m a police officer, and I have a knack for reading people. She started acting brand new, spending countless hours on her phone and the computer. Which she, of course, covered up with work. But I know a lie when I hear and see one. Which led me to hack into her email, and I saw a bunch of websites she was a member of. With my newfound knowledge, I did the next best thing. As the old saying goes, “If you can’t beat them, join them.” Because I don’t chase. Darnell replaces them.

Hence, that’s how I ended up on the dating website Plenty of Dates over a year ago and became a regular on it, until I met Latavia. She doesn’t need to know all of that, though. Real talk: I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about this woman that does me dirty, and the craziest thing is I haven’t even met her in person. Latavia is under this strange belief that this online thing is as new to me as it is to her. And the long hours I put in on the job prevents me from meeting new women, as well as being the primary reason that I’ve been a bachelor for the past two years. We are going to leave it that way too.

I make sure to arrive a half hour early at the mall in order to peep her out ahead of time when she gets out of her car. She said she drives a 2000 white, four-door Audi A6. With that fact in mind, I park in the back, by the entrance/exit closest to Victoria’s Secret, so I can watch the cars coming in and out and spot her. I know one thing: if she isn’t the five-four, brown-skinned, big-booty cutie from the pictures, I’m ghost. I am quickly torn from my thoughts when . . .